We have one, yes only one homeless man that we see around town. He pulls a little grocery cart, like the ones our Grandmothers used to carry their groceries home from the neighborhood store. I see him and my heart goes out to his plight. I don't know how he reached this point, maybe a broken heart or a broken spirit. He's the age that he could very easily be a Viet Nam Veteran. Or maybe life just hasn't been as kind to him.
This week as I baked cookies for neighbors, mailmen and the many who care for my Mom at Jamestown... I kept thinking about him. I wondered who he had in the world that he should be spending Christmas with? If he still had his parents, if he has brothers or sisters that he once shared the joys of the Season.
One little box of cookies and he wasn't hard to find, he's usually on the corner of Poplar and 8th. Reaching out felt good. His name is Mark.